


Riddles

by birdup (captainmycatisthedevil)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nogitsune Trauma, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Season/Series 03, Recovery, Stiles-centric, post 3b, the show didn't do this well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainmycatisthedevil/pseuds/birdup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn’t talk about it. When Scott bit the Nogitsune, defeating it, Stiles felt like something snapped in his chest. He fell and everything was black. Beyond his eyelids he could feel his friends gathering around him, shouting his name.  The Nogitsune was gone. Stiles could feel it, a hole somewhere inside of him that he thinks may never be filled again. But his bones feel… lighter, the Nogitsune’s presence no longer feeding off of his life force. He barely remembers weakly making a quip towards his friends, only that he couldn’t stomach the heartache on Scott’s face, the tears on Lydia’s.</p><p>Basically the show just assumed that Stiles was fine after the Nogitsune, and I object.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riddles

Stiles doesn’t talk about it. When Scott bit the Nogitsune, defeating it, Stiles felt like something snapped in his chest. He fell and everything was black. Beyond his eyelids he could feel his friends gathering around him, shouting his name.  The Nogitsune was gone. Stiles could feel it, a hole somewhere inside of him that he thinks may never be filled again. But his bones feel… lighter, the Nogitsune’s presence no longer feeding off of his life force. He barely remembers weakly making a quip towards his friends, only that he couldn’t stomach the heartache on Scott’s face, the tears on Lydia’s.

 

They take him home. Stiles doesn’t remember the ride much, only that he’s pretty sure Scott held his hand the whole way there. His dad grabs him in a fierce embrace as soon as they arrive at the Stilinski household. Stiles doesn’t mind. He still can’t seem to get warm. Melissa comes over to check him out after the final battle, and gives him some pills to help him sleep. When his dad tries to get him to take them, he starts to panic. His dad’s face swims out of focus, and all he can see is Brunski brandishing a needle, a smirk on his face.

 

“NO! No!! I can’t sleep! No, don’t!! Please don’t! I can’t sleep, please, he’ll come back!!” Stile starts to sob, and when he feels arms wrap around him, he begins to scream.  “NO. Brunski, no, no, no, no!!! I can’t! He’ll come back!”

 

“Stiles. Stiles please, it’s me, it’s Dad, we won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, please calm down, it’s Dad” Hands are holding his face, thumbs wiping the tears from his cheeks.

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Hey, Stiles, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay son. I’ll sit up with you, you don’t need to take the pills. It’s all gonna be okay” He comes back himself with his dad rocking him in his arms. He’s covered in sweat and tears, shaking like a leaf. That’s how they spend the rest of the night. Later, when his dad asks him what he had been talking about, who Brunski was, he just shakes his head. He can’t.

 

Stiles spends the next week at home, but his dad can’t take that much time off of work.  With all of the chaos the Nogitsune caused, the Sheriff needs to be there to reassure the community, to cover Stiles’, no, the Nogitsune’s tracks. The rest of the pack goes back to school. When the Sheriff can’t be there, Derek is. Stiles spends the days silent, sitting on his couch and watching dumb comedies. He decided after the first commercial with a loud noise that an endless stream of man-children and tomfoolery was just what the doctor ordered. Derek sits with him, and when Stiles zones off and his heart rate starts to climb, Derek puts his hand on Stiles ankle and squeezes lightly until Stiles comes back to the present.

 

Everyone wants Stiles to talk. His dad will see him flinch at certain words, hold him as he screams himself awake at night, and try and ask him what he saw. To tell him why he went catatonic when someone mentioned their shadow. But Stiles can’t. When Scott asks him about what it was like at Eichen house, he mentions Kira, and then Scott is off, waxing poetic about her hair, or her laugh, or whatever cute thing she said that day at school. Lydia comes over sometimes, but Stiles knows that when she looks at him she can still feel a ghost of a scream in her throat, a reminder of a dead girl that meant the world to her.

 

Allison’s funeral is on a Saturday. Stiles finds himself in his room, suit on, dread pooling in his chest. How can he go to the funeral of the girl he killed? How can he stand next to Scott and know that he is responsible for the death of his first love? As annoying as “Scallison” was at the time, Scott really loved her. And Stiles did too. He’ll never forget, never let himself forget, her dimples, her sarcasm, her warmth. And he took that away. His hands start to shake, and his legs give out. Strong arms catch him before he can crumble to the ground.

 

“C’mon buddy. Let’s get you some tea, and then we gotta go to the service.” His dad grabs his hand, and takes him to the kitchen. He drinks the chamomile tea that’s placed in front of him, but he doesn’t really see it. Can’t really taste it. He’s moving on autopilot. His dad shepherds him into his cruiser, and before he knows it they’re standing in the cemetery, his dad’s hand on his shoulder. And he sees it. Her coffin. And there are _so many things_ on the tip of his tongue, so many things he’s been keeping down that he wants to _scream_ at the body of a girl he loved once, and who was killed by his weakness. But he can’t. The words have been pushing at his throat for days, and they burn, _god_ , they burn but he can’t do it here. A small hand slips into his as Lydia quietly steps up next to him, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her hand trembles, and Stiles vows to swallow his words. They have no place here.

 

He can see Scott’s hunched form in the front row, and tries to control his emotions. Scott doesn’t need extra guilt or grief wafting towards him. He’s already drowning. Looking at Scott’s tense shoulders makes Stiles’ chest seize with cold. He’s already done enough to Scott for a lifetime, can still feel the sensation of the katana cutting through Scott’s stomach, and if pretending that he’s okay will help Scott, then he’ll wear a mask for as long as it takes.

 

Things go back to normal. Isaac and Chris leave for France to live with some relatives of Chris’, far aware from the life of a hunter. Scott grieves Allison, but he’s getting along well with Kira. Stiles can smell young love, and this time not a tragic one. Lydia is getting more of a handle on her powers, and the supernatural business is quiet. Everyday Stiles can see Scott relax more. Stiles is back at school, and trying his best to act normal. He makes weird jokes at lunch, he helps Scott with his co-captain duties for lacrosse, and he tries his best to get his grades back up. He’ll never admit that he still holds his breath when he goes into econ, part of him still expecting to walk into a room of his peers with empty eyes and rapid hand gestures. His panic doesn’t recede until coach starts to teach, until he’s sure that if he’s dreaming, then it’s at least a mundane one.

 

Everyone starts to forget that Stiles is broken, and no one asks him to talk anymore. The more jokes he makes and smiles he fakes, the less Scott stares at him in class, brow furrowed in concern, and the less Lydia insists on skyping him at night until they both go to sleep. Stiles would always pretend he was asleep, and hang up on Lydia when he heard her slow breathing. He can go back to talking for hours, but not saying a single thing. No one knows that Stiles flushes the sleeping pills down the toilet every night, and that the first and only time that he took them, he screamed himself awake convinced that he had built another bomb and put it in Melissa McCall’s bedroom. The difference between sleeping with the pills and without them is how long it takes him to wake himself up. Stiles never wants to feel out of control of his body ever again.

 

His dad is spending more time at the station on nights. He thinks Stiles is taking his pills and sleeping peacefully through the night, and only just started feeling comfortable leaving Stiles alone. Stiles saw the bags that were forming under his dad’s eyes after waking up to hold Stiles night after night, and Stiles is so grateful his screaming is no longer leaving his dad exhausted and scared.

 

The pack gets together every Friday to watch movies. Even Derek comes, and they eat pizza and relax in the comfort of pack. Stiles revels in the laughter and smiles of Scott and Kira, and finds himself cracking a smile when Lydia makes a particularly snappy comment.

 

Tonight Stiles is late. He and his dad went out for dinner to celebrate the A- he got on his calculus test, and to talk about all the progress he was making. It sucks having to lie to his dad about his sleeping patterns, but the pride on his face makes Stiles feel warm. Finally.

 

Stiles pulls up to Scott’s house about an hour late, so they’ve already started the movie. He walks in and hears Gollum talking, and smothers a smile. Scott knows he loves the Lord of the Rings movies, and must have chosen them for him. He plops down in his usual spot next to Derek on the couch, and, in a pattern that’s formed over the last few weeks, leans his legs into Derek’s. Derek’s hand finds his knee and gives it a squeeze. Stiles starts paying attention to the movie only to find they’re not watching any of the Lord of the Rings movies, but instead The Hobbit. He looks to the screen and sees Bilbo crouching behind a rock as Gollum asks him a question:

 

“ _It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,_  
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.  
It lies behind stars and under hills,  
And empty holes it fills.  
It comes out first and follows after,  
Ends life, kills laughter.”

 

Stiles freezes. His heart rate begins to creep up, and Scott’s living room melts away. He’s in a basement, and it’s freezing. And then he hears it. “Everyone has it, but no one can lose it? What is it? What is it, Stiles?”

 

“NO!” Arms grab him, and he let’s out an anguished cry. He _knew_ he would never be free of this, he knew that he would forever be haunted by the void. By his _own goddamn voice_. He begins to cry in earnest, and shouts the answer he looked up as soon as he was allowed access to a computer.

 

“It’s a shadow!! _Please_ , it’s a shadow. Please don’t hurt them, _please._ ” He can still feel the arms on him, they’re trying to keep him from thrashing but he can’t submit this time.  “I won’t let you in! You can’t come in! GO AWAY” He can feel that he managed to land a hit on the Nogitsune. He hopes he broke his own goddamn nose. Finally a whole body wraps around him, and he can’t move a muscle. He stops breathing. “Please…please don’t. Don’t kill her. I’ll let you in, just please…no…” he gasps.

 

Someone throws water over him, and he sucks in a large breath. He blinks his eyes open and sees the worried faces of Scott and Lydia leaned over him. Wrapped around him and holding his arms down is Derek. Stiles sucks in deep breaths as Lydia strokes his hair back from his forehead. He can feel the tears drying on his cheeks and starts to blush. He can’t believe they all saw him freak out. His mask is no longer in place, and he can feel the words pushing at his throat, clawing their way out. But he _can’t._ Scott was just starting to be okay again. All of his pent up fear, and guilt, and grief, and _words_ just push and push at his chest, and all he can do is cry. A sob breaks out, he can’t choke it back, and then it’s like the dam is broken. He can’t catch his breath, he hasn’t cried like this since his mom died, and he can’t _stop._ The arms scoop him up, and he can feel Derek cradle him against his chest. This just makes him cry even harder because now Derek’s shirt is going to be wet.

 

He thinks that he’s in Scott’s bed, but his eyes are so swollen from tears he isn’t sure. Someone is rocking him back and forth, smoothing their hand down his back, and it just feels so nice to be held, for someone to finally know that he’s not okay. He thinks he maybe mumbles something along these lines because Derek’s gruff voice finally breaks the silence left by his tears.

 

“You don’t need to be okay”

 

Stiles rolls his head up from where it’s been cradled between Derek’s neck and shoulder, and gets an eyeful of Derek’s scruff. He leans back, finally realizing he’s perched on Derek’s lap, and looks at Derek.  Derek blushes a bit, still bashful whenever he’s not issuing threats, but then looks Stiles in the eyes. “It’s okay to not be fine. I know you’re not okay. You don’t need to be okay yet.” Stiles looks at Derek, his face serious, and nods his head. If anyone understands what it means to be “fine”, and to live with guilt, it’s Derek.

 

“You wanna tell me what made you scared?” Stiles stiffens at the question, is about to shake his head no, and bury void Stiles back down deep in his mind, but the words are _pushing_ again, and he can’t keep them down.

 

“Riddles” Stiles rasps, voice scratchy, and he shudders. “The…No-“ He stops, takes a breath. “The Nogitsune asked me riddles. If I could figure them out, he wouldn’t hurt anybody, but I _couldn’t_ Derek, I didn’t know all of them, and when my mind was open they were all asking me about the door, and I couldn’t shut it. I WAS TOO WEAK TO SHUT IT. He was gonna kill Malia, so I had to let him in, I _had to_ Derek, but” and his voice gets small, distress making his throat close, “but then I killed Allison. And I can still feel it. I can feel the glee it felt when Allison died, I can feel the katana I stabbed into Scott, the resistance of hitting bone” Here, Stiles falters, but now that the words are free, now that he’s telling someone he just can’t stop. “I tried to…kill it. When it first got me, when I was in the hospital, we went to the roof. I tried…” but Stiles can’t finish.

 

“You tried to jump.  Scott and I, we… we went up to the roof, looking for you. I could smell you arguing with yourself. With _it._ ” Stiles meets his eyes, expecting disgust, but seeing anger. He looks closer, searching for the target of Derek’s ire, wanting so bad for it to be him, for someone to finally be mad at him for the things that he’d done. But Derek wasn’t mad at him. He was mad _for_ him, and Stiles couldn’t handle that.

 

“Don’t!” And, dammit, he was crying again. “Don’t feel sorry for me! I killed Allison! I stabbed Scott, I killed Aiden, I tried to kill _you_ Derek!! Why won’t anybody BE MAD AT ME??” Stiles tried to fight his way off of Derek’s lap, disgusted with himself, with Derek, with the whole goddamn world.

 

Derek just wrapped his arms tighter around Stiles, and began to chant. “It wasn’t you, it wasn’t you, it wasn’t you..” Stiles screamed, loud and anguished. And then he went limp.

 

“He was in Eichen House” Stiles whispers. “I locked myself away, I thought you all would be safe, but it wasn’t enough. It was _never_ enough. He was there with me, and I tried so hard not to go to sleep. Morell said that if the poison went away she’d kill me” Derek lets out a growl “and that was the only time I felt hope. And then they sedated me, I tried to fight Brunski off, and he was _there_ Derek, and he was gonna kill Malia…” Stiles lets out a shuddery sigh. “He was gonna kill her if I didn’t let him in. So I let go” Derek squeezes Stiles tighter at this admission, understanding that memories like these cut like glass as they leave.

 

“It’s not your fault” Maybe if Derek says it enough times, he’ll start to believe him. He doesn’t think this one got through Stiles glassy eyes and pale cheeks.

 

“I was too weak…Out of all of us, my mind was the weakest. He could use me because I was _weak_. It’s my fault.” Derek repeats himself over Stiles, selfishly wants to cover the stories of the horrors he’s witnessed with absolutions, wishing fiercely that there had been someone to do this for him.

 

Derek knows he’s not going to convince Stiles tonight, or anytime soon. Hell, he still hasn’t let go of his own guilt. He probably never will. They’re an even match. But he can’t let it fester in Stiles the same way it festered in him, ugly and resilient. Pretending to be fine is easier than letting the world know you’re broken, and Stiles can’t live in anger. Not like Derek has been.

 

Finally telling someone what happened to him must have worn Stiles out, for minutes later he’s snoring quietly on Derek’s shoulder.

 

The door to Scott’s room opens with a quiet creak, and Scott pokes his head through.

 

“Is he asleep?” He whispers. Derek nods, and gently slides Stiles onto the bed. He walks out of the room to talk to Scott.

 

“You heard what he said.” It wasn’t a question. Scott nods, his face ashen.

 

“I didn’t know he…I didn’t know.”

 

“You remember the day on the roof?”

 

“Yeah, I remember, but I didn’t get what you meant!! I didn’t know he…know he tried…” Scott can’t finish the sentence.

 

“You thought Stiles was fine? That he was sleeping, that he had forgiven himself??”

 

“Derek, he was completely normal at school! And he never _told_ me” Scott is getting visibly worked up, so Derek sighs, and puts a calming hand on his shoulder.

 

“It’s okay, Scott. You had your own shit to deal with. You couldn’t know how much he was suffering. I think…I had a better idea.” Scott nods. “Go, take Lydia and Kira home. I’ll keep an eye on Stiles”. Scott gives him a grateful look. Sometimes adult trumps Alpha, and it’s times like these, when they can work together, that makes Derek glad to be Scott’s Beta. Scott leaves with Kira and Lydia, but not until after Lydia popped upstairs to check on Stiles. Derek sees the way she tenderly strokes Stiles’ hair before dropping a kiss on his head, but he’ll take it to the grave. He values his life more than some may assume, thank you very much.

 

Derek climbs back up to Scott’s room, where Stiles is still fast asleep.  A few minutes later, he gets a text from Scott. _I’m staying at Kira’s. I think Stiles will be more comfortable with u. U understand him. Call me in morning. Thanks, Derek._ Derek sighs, but he’s not surprised. He probably does understand Stiles the most, and Stiles doesn’t need to be crowded. He slips into the bed next to Stiles, wrapping his lithe form in his arms.

 

Derek wakes up when he’s elbowed in the face. Stiles is thrashing, his breath coming out in gasps. He’s muttering the word “ajar” at an increasingly frantic pace. Derek isn’t sure what to do. He’s heard that you shouldn’t wake a sleepwalker, but Stiles is having a nightmare. He also doesn’t want to be hit in the face again. 

 

Derek blocks another flailing arm, and gently shakes Stiles. “Stiles. Stiles, wake up. It’s okay, you’re dreaming.” But it’s not working. Stiles is getting more and more worked up, and he’s beginning to shout.

 

“AJAR. WHEN IT’S AJAR”

 

Derek doesn’t know how to help him, and improvising has never been his strong suit. So he grabs the glass of water from the bedside table, and dumps it over Stiles. He sits up with a gasp, shaking and pale.

 

“Hey, Stiles, it’s okay. You were dreaming. You’re safe.” Derek holds Stiles face in his hands while Stiles scrabbles for some sort of anchor. After a minute Stiles’ eyes lose their lost look, and he looks up at Derek. When he realizes where he is, he throws his arms around Derek’s neck and tries to slow his breathing.  Derek just continues to tell him that he’s safe, he’s okay, and that he’s himself. No one is hurt.

 

They rock back and forth for a while, Stiles collecting himself.

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Derek mumbles.

 

Stiles shakes his head no, still trembling from the dream.

 

“Stiles”.

 

Stiles sighs, and says, “More riddles. When we…died for our parents, we opened doors in our mind, you know?”

 

Derek nods. He remembers having this conversation with Scott after the Nogitsune was defeated, and feeling the guilt of being gone as these teenagers drowned themselves to save their parents.

 

“Well I guess I was the weakest” Derek ignores Stiles bitter tone, “and I kept dreaming that the door to my bedroom was open, and I _had_ to go through it. Everyone told me not to, but I _had_ to. I think I went through it? In school the words stopped making sense, I couldn’t read anymore, and I would look down and be writing ‘wake up’ at all times” And here Stiles voice goes high with fear, “but I didn’t know what awake was! I still don’t know if I’m sleeping sometimes… I would walk into class and everyone was using sign language and they were telling me _when is a door not a door. When is a door not a door. When is a door not a door…”_ Stiles shudders and goes quiet.

 

“Can you keep a secret?” Derek grunts the affirmative. “Sometimes I think he’ll come back. I wake up at night with the ghost of Scott’s blood on my hands. I see Allison’s face when I close my eyes. _I kill you guys every single night._ ”

 

Derek is stroking Stiles head with one of his large hands. He understands. He still sees his family, smells smoke as he gasps awake at least once a week.

 

“Does it get better?” Derek takes a moment to think of an answer.

 

“Yeah. It does. I still dream about them. I’ll never forget. But you learn how to be… good, again.” Stiles looks up at Derek, and there’s hope in his eyes.

 

They lie back down, Stiles’ head on Derek’s chest. Derek waits until exhaustion takes Stiles again, until his breathing is slow and even. When Stiles begins to scream in his sleep again, whimpering Allison’s name, Derek will calmly wake him up and hold his hands, counting his fingers out loud. When he’s reached ten twice, Stiles will sigh in relief and lean into Derek. Derek hopes that this can be the start of Stiles’ healing. He’s watched Scott begin to glow once more, watched Lydia control and excel with her powers. Now they need to focus on Stiles. Derek knows what it’s like to live with guilt, and he knows that it never quite goes away. Maybe he can finally teach these kids something they’ll actually benefit from. Maybe he can help.

 

Derek leans down and smooth’s out the furrow in Stiles’ brow, then lies back down. It will be morning soon, the pack will expect Derek to make pancakes, and life will go on. Derek will count to ten as many times as it takes, and the pack will recover. They have to.


End file.
